


The System Was Down

by Kharasma



Category: Homestar Runner
Genre: Characters Writing Fanfiction, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, Diary/Journal, Gen, Some Humor, Unlikely Brotherly Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kharasma/pseuds/Kharasma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deletion times are the strangest times. When a certain clueless webmaster tanks the site, two brothers tell their tales of (relatively) dark days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the strong bad files

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Healy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healy/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to the suggestions of my beta B, without whom some lovely things would not have been possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A

_**strongbad_file.exe** _

S.D.T. (System Down Time) Day 1, 4:32 PM

>So, Compé. Here's the scoop: there won't be any email check today, tomorrow, or possibly for the next several days. I've been reduced to typing without a purpose. Advising with no audience. It's killing me already, I tell you! Where have all the emails gone, you might wonder? Well, it all started as my days usually do: awesome. Today's email would've been the best ever! I felt it in my bones. Or maybe that was just my back bending into the shape of one that's slept on the remote all night. I woke up to the horror of a daytime infomercial for some foot fungus, with a coach who looked unsettlingly like Coach Z with a mustache. . After that, my day was quick to spiral down into absurd madness, all made possible by the master of disaster himself.

Remember what I've said about the four branches of the stupid things Homestar’s done? Actually you probably don't unless you were checking the piles of deletion carnage in the archives, 'cause I was emailing on the Lappy back then.

...

Freezing on me? We're not even using the bandwidth! There's no reason you need to be locking down on me.  Jeez, we haven't even been together for more than three emails and you're already acting up. Are you asking for a trip back to the questionably legit Compy factory? Maybe you don't know it yet, but this is not the time to try me. I won't hesitate to kick a crappy computer to the curb---

...

Alright already! You're adequate. Maybe even good. Are you gonna stop this tantrum now? Huh?

Anyway. Back to catching you up on a topic you'll soon know far too well, the branches of stupid things Homestar's done, because he's somehow capable of exceeding even my highest expectations of his low intelligence.  He's cooked up a fifth branch I somehow overlooked back then: ‘The Cabinet of Stupid Things Homestar’s Done On The Internet’. Not that he’s the first or the last person to commit utterly moronic atrocities when given a keyboard and an e-magazine's comment section, but he takes your Nigerian prince-mailing grandmothers and blows her right out of the freakin’ water. Like a big whale. With a blowhole.  
  
This kind of astoundingly rare idiocy is hard for me to put in words, especially when I'm foaming at the metaphorical fingertips. So I’m just gonna copy and paste what could quite possibly be the last email I’ll ever receive. And what a terrible note to end on it would be:  
  
 _To: strongbad@homestarrunner.com_  
 _From: djmankiewicz@homestarrunner.com_  
 _Subject: net fixing_  
  
 _Hey Strong Bad,_

 _Why didn’t you tell me our net-serve was all virused up? I know and depreciate how much your emails do for our batting average, but don’t you remember last time you got one of those virus things? You almost wrecked the whole website, not to mention the track field! And do you know what that could do to our finances? We’d be living in paper bags!_  
  
 _(That could be okay, though, I guess. Bags sure have some cool things in them---but you’ve gotta show me next time! I never could find that thing you guys were looking at in there that one day.)_  
  
 _But don’t you worry about your emails, ‘cause I put a stopper in this hot mess! We’ll even get faster download speeds, whatever that means. Actually, by the time you read this, you should have some super-fast internets! All I had to do was delete that pesky centralsystem.exe file from the waiter! It was gonna open a black hole right in the middle of the system if I didn’t delete it! You're a deletin' expert. You get what I'm saying, right?_  
  
 _By the time you read this, it’ll all be good to go! And if you wanna thank me with some melonade, I certainly won’t protest._ _A-wink._  
  
 _Your pal,_  
 _Homestar Runner_  
  
In case you didn’t catch that, he went and deleted centralsystem.exe. You know what that is? You probably do, seeing as you're a computer and all, but just in case you're as utterly clueless as he is, I’ll tell you what it is. IT’S THE GLUE THAT HOLDS A WHOLE FREAKIN' COMPUTER SYSTEM TOGETHER! He wiped all our databytes in one single stupid click, and Bubs says it’ll take days to get a fix in. With our mangled infrastructure, we can’t just plop a new server in there---no, we’re forced to fix his mess. Again.  
  
Next time, I’m definitely running the central server right here in Strong Badia. And we’re Homestar-proofing every last bit and byte of tech in this town. But now I have several dark days to look forward to nothing at all on the email front, so...I guess I’ll make an off-web weblog. A personal file. There, that sounds cool, right? There’s not much else I can do with you, Compé. Except maybe play some Minesweeper.

Oooh, I think I’ll go for it. I’ll get you this time, 99 bombs on a 100-square grid! Mr. Coolshades McHappyface!

\---  
  
S.D.T. Day 3, 8: 23 PM

>I’m already tracking these dark days with tally marks on the computer room’s wall, 'cause I'm doing some time in the prison of eternal boredom around here. Not even the worst dungeon the King of Town can throw at me can compare to how painful it is to not be able to read the tragically misspelled missives from my fans. And ol' Kingy's dungeon's got some surprisingly painful-looking equipment in there. He's far too busy eating cans of spam-lard to figure out how to use any of it. That's very probably a good thing. But even if he wrapped his head around his stretch tables and guillotines, the pain would still never compare to the horrible tragedy of losing my emails.  
  
I’m already banned from within 50 feet of Bubs’ Concession Stand for asking too many questions, so I’m sending my main The Cheat to have a looksee every few hours or so.  That old creeping bush trick works every time! So far, we’ve got nothing on when the system’ll come back up, but I’ve learned far more than I ever want to know about Bubsy’s private life. That little tree trunk behind the stand? What has been seen can never be unseen. I knew he traded on the black market, but. Even black markets have a pitch black bottom. But he completely lacks scruples! Not that that should surprise anyone. Ah, the relentless siren call of the almighty dollar.  
  
In other agonizing news, Homestar’s been creeping around the house even more than usual. Did Marzipan kick him out again, or something? I thought they already hit their breakup quota for the month. With no more chain mail hoax-ies to ruin my life with, he’s taken to hiding out around the house and messing with our stuff. He seems to think there’s a book of witchly bewitchments somewhere in Strong Sad’s room, and while that wouldn’t surprise me at all, I don’t need Homestar getting his dirty...grip on it. The way his dumb luck works, I don’t want to take the chance that he’ll actually turn someone into a toad.  
  
Unless he turns his terrible magical power on the King of Town. I’d be down with that. Free Country escapes the Toad King! I can smell sweet freedom already! B.B. Elle, I’ve got an idiot to borrow.

\---  
  
S.D.T. Day 5, 2:11 AM  
  
>Our attempts to toadify the King of Town ended in miserable failure. Turns out that supposed book of sorcery was actually a collection of knitting patterns, and the closest we got to any toads was feeding one to Strong Sad in retaliation. But the worst part is, he actually seemed to enjoy it, citing its dubiously nutritional properties as he went right back to his yarn needles. Maybe I really _did_ hit him too hard in the head with that wagon when we were kids. I know you don't have the webcam up to see it, Compé, but I’m shuddering with revulsion right now.  
  
Here in Free Country, we're quickly running out of ways to entertain ourselves without my emails to answer. Bubs continues to make zero visible progress on the system downage. I think we really oughta get somebody else involved. Knowing him, the dirty swindler's got it solved already! He’s just holding out for me to get desperate enough to pay him a pretty penny or two. Well that ain’t happening. I’d cat-burgle the fix from him before I’d even think about tossing him the lint from my wallet.  
  
So I’m working on some bonus content for my awesome fans. For whenever we finally do turn the lights back on. There’s a Super Sweet Seventeen episode of Teen Girl Squad hot off the presses! We’ve got drama! Monster trucks! Tantrums! And needlessly cruel deaths. Any good teen drama needs those. Shamelessly piggybacking off the popularity of the Rumble Royale Games series here. And maybe a tragic romance with some charmingly handsome hero. Bleeding love: the best kind, especially when the bleeding's literal.

That axe murder joke with Cheerleader was actually pretty good, I think. I got the red pen for realistic bloody gore effects and everything! But for some reason, the rest of it's not tying together too well. What's Her Face is refusing to cooperate with her planned excursion into a volcano---she'd rather toss the Gregs in and go after the prime minister with her plasma cannon. It's almost like there's a fictional revolt going on in my brain! But maybe I can work with this. If she grabs hero-guy and they triumph...ladies who kick butt are always hot, right?

Yeah, whatever. Once I nail this ending, it's gonna be awesome.

\---

S.D.T. Day 16, 5: 34 PM

>You know that stupid thing people say when you’re in an unfathomably crappy situation? ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’? What’s that supposed to be, anyway? Oh, so you’re being rained on and your Strong Badian Flame-B-Q Extravaganza is ruined, but maybe the sun’ll show its face tomorrow? Bet your bottom dollar it won’t make your shish-ka-bob any less un-ka-bobbed. Yeah, a situation like that still sucks.

(...oh man, I have _got_ to stop reading this stuff aloud while I type it. Excuse me while I smack the keyboard, 'cause Strong Sad just agreed with me! Am I starting to become another grey cloud around here? No way, not happening.)  
  
But (but!) I can’t believe I’m saying this: there might actually be an upside to this whole serverpocalypse deal. Without countless poorly-spelled letters from my fans to attend to (or delete), I’ve completed Dangeresque 4 a whole three years ahead of schedule! Man, when our internets come back up, my career as an international cover-grabbing action star will finally take off! I’ll be rolling in so much monies. So many ladies. Oh, I can almost taste the more-than-bottom-dollar cold ones right this second.  
  
So here’s the breakdown:  when you’ve got an award-wining trilogy of action movies and the fans demand a sequel, where do you go? Not to a four-quel, obviously. Those only end in broken dreams, cheap knock-offs of old characters no one remembers, and bitter, bitter contract disputes that eat up the whole already tiny budget. Nah. Obviously the way to go is a total reboot. You get to re-use an already awesome script. And you’ve got your audience built in ‘cause they liked the movie the first time you made it. You’ve just gotta keep their attention with a few dark twists and turns.  
  
Unfortunately, my great scheme to evade the ol’ King’s tax tyranny by casting and filming in the great country of Prance didn’t exactly pan out (without that email revenue, I can’t even buy a cargo hold ticket. Whoda thunk it?), so I’m still here. In the same old town. With the same old ‘actors’. And just ‘cause they helped me with the past three, they think they deserve a raise. And to make all kinds of unreasonable demands.  
  
For example. Marzipan ain’t exactly happy with how Cutesy Buttons turns out in the original. I gotta admit she exceeded my expectations for Sultry Buttons in Dangeresque 3 (I actually almost liked her!), but they were exceedingly low to begin with. Now she wants Cutesy to have more than one line. Since we can’t use Bubs’ Concession Stand as a filming location anymore, she’s graciously offered her roof as a filming location in exchange for these demands. So I had no choice but to give her a steamy romance with Renaldo. Everybody loves some dogged creepiness in their romance, right? Coach Z gets a bigger part, Marzi gets a bigger part, and Dangeresque gets to pummel the both of them. Everybody wins!  
  
Well. Several iced bruises later, I had to admit that maybe that wasn’t my most awesome idea. See, what actually happened was the good Coach getting a little too friendly when pouring the serum, Marzipan slamming him over the roof of her house with her guitar, and Homestar cozying up to her. Now we’ve got a double-Dangeresque love trangle on our hands, and in a completely unforeshadowed twist, Renaldo was in cahoots with Perducci the whole time! Crap, I’ll have to rewrite all three reboots. Threeboots.  
  
And our number-one stuntmonkey Strong Sad was nowhere to be found for all three days of filming, so all the stunts were done by a brand-new sack of potatoes. We can dress ‘em up in post, right? The Cheat’ll work his Flashtime magic again. And it’s not like potatoes expect me to pay ‘em. I just pop them in my mouth. So maybe it’s one of those silver lining things after all.

\---

S.D.T. Day 45, 11:04 AM

>I can't believe I'm doing this, but here's an update on brother Strong Sad. Yeah, him. The grey cloud. Refer back to my note at the end of the last entry: he missed the whole Dangeresque shoot. Then he had the nerve to show up for the advanced screening...and he liked it. Said our choice of a potato sack for a stuntman perfectly represented the lack of identity that stunt actors face. Well I shoved a potato in his...potatoface for that one! In other news, Marzipan's boycotting the movie and telling everyone in town about my rampant vegetable abuse.

Anyway, back to mashed potatoface. I don't know what the crap got into him, but he's been hanging off me more and more lately. Maybe I haven't been pummeling him enough? Yeah, that's a thing I should probably do. I mean. At first it was little things, like sticking around for breakfast instead of taking it to his room. Then he showed up at the Stick when I was hanging with the guys. And now he's asking me if I want to play some Trivia Time, like I wouldn't totally humiliate him with my vast expanses of knowledge! I'm no egghead, I've just got an egg-shaped head. But I'm definitely the superior brain.

1: 40 PM

He cheated! Goody McTwoShoes actually cheated! There's no way he legitimately beat me at my own incredibly rigged game. Might have to look into this further. Could he be capable of capering after all?

...nah, don't think so. I seriously need to email again soon. Him being one of the only people who can intelligently communicate must be getting to my head or something.

\---

S.D.T. Day 54, 3:25 AM

>Somebody get me out of here! This whole world's turned upside down! I tried grabbing the old alternate universe portal-blender and giving it a smoothie whirl, seeing if I can get back to where I'm supposed to be, with piles of emails, slobbering fans and a delightfully dysfunctional family, but no dice. There's no big beautiful tomorrow. Just..a morrow. Of sorrow. Did I rhyme?

\---whoa, deleting that before Strong Sad sees. If he even thinks I'm going to a poetry non-slam jam with him, he's got another think coming. Next thing I know, he'll be pulling a Homestar, ruining my life and stealing the fondue pot for nefarious purposes. The worst part is...the old pummel ain't happening anymore. After too many creepy laughs and Strong Mad wandering off to build a little cabin for The Cheat, I'm sticking to whacking the Homestar-shaped scarecrow. It's more fun these days.

And you know what the worst thing is? He found my old Teen Girl Squad scraps and left some storyboards notes on it. Obviously I'll never use it, and I'm definitely putting this one under lock, key, and fire-breathing dragon, but he came up with a working ending. Whats Her Face and Blandyface McHero roll on out of the gladiator games..but they get out, and all of humanity is doomed. Cue the zombie apocalyse battle that ends in his tragic death by brain-eats. And, heartbroken, she sets the world ablaze. In some ways his mind's just as twisted as mine. I can almost see how we might be related, if I squint first.

Oh man. I **really** need to step up my Bubs-bugging game before this gets any worse. From now on, it's open season on his smug smirking face. All that blackmail The Cheat's been piling up will work! Internets, here I come!

\---  
  
S.D.T. Day 72

>I can’t believe it! It’s not butter! I mean. I can’t believe the system’s back up! After we bought out Bubsy with our advanced salaries on Dangeresque 4 and a few choice photos from his highly illegal hidden lair (with some incriminating evidence from Coach Z's mixtapes), we finally conned him into fixing Free Country’s internet.  
  
So I’m thinking this will be my last torturously offline-typed in this here unweb-log. I love me some old tech, but even I’m inextricably part of the digital age! Oodles of emails from my fans are just two clicks away.  I know they’ve been crying buckets for my safe return. Fear not, faithful deleteheads! Your hero’s about to make his triumphant comeback. No more of this mundanity, today I rise again, better than ever!  
  
Well, it’s been real. A little too real. Back to the safe comforts of the internet! And Compé, I hope you're ready for the epic email-slamjam we're about to embark on. So I greased up the keyboard. Gotta get these words flowing, or it'll never work. So let's do it to it.

-Strong Bad

* * *


	2. strong sad's lamentations

_**Strong Sad’s Lament** _

Day 1 A.D.T

 **current mood** : bemused

After yesterday's events, I really think the death and subsequent rebirth of our connection to the wider world warrant a new designation in our town history. The days will be counted forth from today and henceforth labeled A.D.T., for ‘After Down Time’. I think. Maybe I’ll come up with another idea when my head’s not hurting so badly.  
  
If you’re a regular reader of my blog (not that it’s been updated enough in the past nine years for me to have any regular readers, aside from the lonely crawler bug from a friendly neighborhood search engine. Oops), you’re probably already assuming that Strong Bad is at fault, as he usually is when I'm suffering some sort of pain. And in this case, you’d be right again. But something about today’s a little different. I really think he’s in trouble this time.  
  
So here’s what happened: again, not that you would have noticed given that I never update this thing, but our town’s actually been lacking internet access for the past two months thanks to Homestar Runner being the host of the main server and believing a no-brained chain mail. Since we’re not all that digital, it didn’t really bring about a panic like the strange science fiction of Y2K that ultimately became nothing. About all that happened was that The Cheat moved in when he couldn’t make his grill rent (and that cabin Strong Mad's building him still lacks a roof), Bubs’s mysterious supply chains started to dry up, and we all spent a little more time at home. Strong Bad's been steadily losing his grasp on reality. That scarecrow he's started pummeling when I stopped reacting to him? Its head's now attached to its arm and it somehow got a third and fourth leg. He breaks them all.

And then he curls up with a Dear Abdi column, fitfully writing violent answers over her ink-printed replies. I think he needs his opinions heard to stay on the level or something. He's even started...dare I say it? Moping on the couch. I thought that was my job.  
  
But today everything would return to normal, or so I thought. When Strong Bad flicked on the freshly polished Compé, all rearing to go for his biggest comeback ever, his email client showed an ominous screen straight out of one of my fanfics: 0 new messages.  
  
As he told us while convulsing hysterically, that’s never happened to him before. I happened to hear him saying ‘wha--what---what is this’ over and over again as I left, but I high-tailed it out of the house before he could somehow find a way to blame me for this one. I can't evade him forever, but maybe he just needs a little time for things to go back to normal.

\---  
  
Day 28 A.D.T.

 **current mood** : faintly concerned  
  
Well, the unthinkable has been thought. Something life-changing has finally happened. The era of Strong Bad Email is officially over, due to Strong Bad no longer having a device with which to answer email. On my way back from Marzipan’s tai chi class, I narrowly avoided the flaming remains of the Compé raining down from above. Why would Strong Bad mercilessly destroy his own computer? Not that he hasn’t done it several times before, but all this after he’d been bugging the heck out of everyone to get himself back online?  
  
I decided to brave the storm and ask him, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for what I found. When I peeked in the doorway to his computer room, he was a shaking wreck. He was tearing up the old faithful No Loafing poster, kicking Stooly around the room, and making an odd noise between a scream and a sob. I wondered if he’d somehow taken one of my caffeine pills. They can really mess with your head if you’re not used to them.  
  
Instead, I heard him muttering something like this:  
  
‘Forgotten...thrown out...discarded...old meme?’  
  
I didn’t dare come close enough to talk to him, for fear he’d commit bodily harm on me again, but I really think this zero new messages thing has broken him. Like it’s killing him that the world stopped paying attention to him when we were offline. I’ve lived without adoring fans all these years, so I’m sure he’ll mature out of it eventually, right? This too shall pass.

\---  
  
Day 35 A.D.T.

 **current mood** : zen  
  
In the house of the Brothers Strong, all is blissfully quiet, as it usually is these days. Strong Mad and the Cheat are outside playing a strange new game they call Skrillball. Or was it Squeebee? No one else could possibly comprehend the rules, even if one of the participants could speak normal English. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why The Cheat is gnawing on The Stick while Strong Mad throws paint on them, but I’m glad it’s not me they’re targeting.  
  
I don’t have enough of a death wish to check, but I believe Strong Bad is still locked away in the basement, drowning his sorrows in bitter beverages and pork rinds. What a strange twist of fate this is---usually with us, it’s the other way around. But unlike me, he doesn’t seem to want to ever come out. Pom Pom even tried to bribe him with one of his ladies. Much to my shock, they really exist. One of them even waved to me. I’ll remember that for the rest of the year.  
  
Surprisingly, all the reaction that provoked from Strong Bad was a ‘PITY DATE? I DON’T WANT YOUR FREAKING PITY, MAN. STRONG SAD, CHUCK THEM OUTTA HERE.’ Now I’m used to him ordering me around, but surprisingly, nothing bad happened to me! He didn’t even call me a juvenile nickname.  
  
Things really have changed. Between all the retreat's self-help tips and Strong Bad backing off, life's never been better! Who knows? Maybe I'll even have the energy to finish my novellas. Forbidden love, endless sorrow. I'm sure I'll make a few bucks from that!

\---  
  
Day 51 A.D.T.

 **current mood** : impassioned  
  
You know what? At first I enjoyed all of this, but I can’t stand to watch Strong Bad hurting himself anymore. I thought it would work well to let him be, let him re-adjust to a normal life without the constant clamor of attention. But this is too pathetic for even me to watch. The Cheat tried to show him a concept for a new music video today---his experimental Flash stuff isn’t usually my thing, but I thought this particular video was a creative twist on the R&B genre. And Strong Bad didn’t even look away from his telenovela. And mi hermano no hablo español---he’s just that zoned out these days.  
  
So I went back up to my room, through that old shoebox where I keep a few precious mementos of our unlikely past. On top of everything was my old Deletehead card. And as I held it, the memories came to me in a rush. The truth is...except when he's being a jerk to me, I actually like the old Strong Bad. He’s a lot smarter than he lets on, and he's definitely not as talented with the ladies as he claims...but he's oddly clever in other ways that he doesn't realize. I used to look up to him so much, and in some ways, I guess I still do. Maybe this is only asking for more trouble, but I should do this. I think.  
  
I pulled Strong Mad and the Cheat aside behind the concession stand, the one place where Strong Bad still isn’t allowed to go. They were suspicious of me at first, but I told them what I know. And they agree: we’ve got to get the old Strong Bad back.

Though I'm intrigued by the strange noises I heard at Bubs's old tree stump. I'm thinking he's gone back on those court orders, but I'm not really in the mood to snoop around. I've got more important things to do.

\---  
  
Day 54 A.D.T.

 **current mood:** defeated  
  
Our first few plans have been total busts. First things first, I sent messages to the old Deleteheads mailing list and tried to organize a mass email campaign. We got Stro Bro's inbox loaded with all kinds of interesting emails! I thought for sure we could provoke a reaction out of him with our most sordid and invasive of questions, but when Pom Pom brought the tablet over, he just knocked it aside. Said he would never again be fooled by a cruel trick of fate, and that anything we had in there was probably just spam. And not even the good-tasting kind.

(I can't believe he likes the taste of spam. Gross.)  
  
Then The Cheat tried bringing him a guitar---even if he couldn’t answer an email, he could play us a song, right? Nah. He just claimed he’s all out of ideas. So I tried dragging out the video games. I even let him win at Night Driver, and he shoved me away. He even had the nerve to say depressed losers are no fun.

Was he talking about me or himself? Of course it was me, right? There's no way he'd ever be that self-aware. But should I even bother to bring him back from this?  
  
My childhood mementos are still guilting me into saying yes. So tonight I’m getting some advice from the world’s number one expert on provoking a reaction out of Strong Bad, Homestar Runner. Keep me in your thoughts, everyone---I'll probably need it if I'm braving this mess.

\---  
  
Day 55 A.D.T.

 **current mood** : hopeful  
  
I’ve been writing all night long! And I might've taken a little too much of the caffeine, because forcing my shaking hands into making words flow is proving to be difficult. So here's what happened with Homestar: trying to ask for anything resembling logical advice from Homestar Runner is a fool's errand for sure, but as we went into the second straight hour of him babbling on about nothing and standing entirely too close to me, an epiphany shined down from the heavens. Apparently Homestar's become a massage therapist in a shady locker room clinic, where he's been slapping peoples' backs with tissues. That sure brought back some interesting memories, and assured me he won't hold that job too much longer.

But I know exactly how to get a rise out of Strong Bad now! I thanked Homestar profusely and went on my way...and he still doesn’t seem to understand what he did for us. I think he thinks he’s our travel agent and we're going to Moscow tomorrow. Eh, that's fine. I'll let him down gently when the time comes.

I’ve got this in the bag now. Come on, Strong Bad. You can snap out of this.

-Strong Sad

* * *


	3. end of the road

A.D.T. Day 57  
  
>I’ve got a problem. A couple of months back, In a fit of uncharacteristic rage and despair I may have...kinda sorta accidentally set fire and dismemberment to my one and only computer. And now I'm needing myself a computer to receive and answer emails. Because there’s no WAY I’m letting this forlorn funk-stank stay on me a second longer.  
  
Apparently, the Deleteheads still exist, as strangely loyal as ever. And they're still led by Strong Sad, as misguided as ever. And they still consider me their awesome leader. They want me so much, in fact, that they went to several horrifying extremes for my sake! I don't know whether to be touched by the gesture or puke. Probably both. But I'll get to that in a minute.

I was just browsing the web, reading chapters of a self help booklet---uh, I mean, awesome foreign wrestling magazines, when I got a message from...somebody. I don't check my email these days---watching the tumbleweeds roll by would be just a little too painful for me. But I kept my insta-messenger rolling, just in case The Cheat wants a looksee over his latest video. I've tried ignoring him in the past, but he's a persistent little table-leg chewer. No dice. At least somebody in this town's still making cool stuff, right? So he sent me a link as he usually does, saying it's for his latest babelicious video. Naturally, I had to take a click.

Well that was a highly misleading label. No babes, for starters. It led straight to the Deleteheads website, newly revamped for 2004 standards! Yeah, I couldn't believe it. It had one of those big home buttons the size of a fist, then a loading bar with a picture of a delete key being mashed over and over again, and then...a glorious Flash-animated intro dedicated to my eternal glory. The new intro's awesome! I'm the beefcake hero of Strong Badia, slaying dragons and peasants alike, rocking out to the head-bobbing of the adoring masses, and answering emails 'til my hands fall off. Then there's another loading screen featuring the flames of burnination, and then: an actual page! With misshaped frames, but I can appreciate he's trying. Because that front and center portrait of me wrestling a bear-shark is pretty awesome, even with the jpeg compression making my head look like a jelly bean. Sweet, over-sugared jelly beans.

Then you get down to the sections. There's an 'episode guide' with a transcript of everything I've ever said while answering an email. It's pretty great as an archive of my genius, but there's something almost a little nauseating about how many utterly pointless details they've taken the time to transcribe. Everything I've ever said is sorted by several axes of topic, there's a shrine to my every physical expression, and a mention of every time I've discussed runny eggs, as if there's some kind of hidden meaning there. Am I too lazy to thoroughly cook my breakfast, or am I making a dramatic statement about my mother? They'll never figure it out. At least I hope they don't. That would seriously freak me out if they did. And what kind of sad soul would note the one time I had jelly shaped like Florida on my pant leg?

But that's not the worst of it. The worst thing my fanclub has ever done is, has been, and will always remain... writing fanfiction. You might say once was enough, and maybe I should've listened, but there was a shining NEW button flashing over the link. And like a bystander drawn to a trainwreck, I clicked.

First up: for some bizarre reason, Strong Sad's terrible new character, Twelve Times A Day Man, has fans. Actual, real-life fans. There are multiple people writing stories about him. The latest one had a suspiciously familiar premise: the email-day must be e-saved by someone other than me. Here's an excerpt that perfectly encapsulates everything that's wrong with my fandom:

_"My emails...they've vanished!" Strong Bad wailed, despair loosening his grip on the keyboard. "Without my sage advice, terrible consequences will befall the land! Oh, woe is us, for it is too late to save Strong Badia."_

_"That's where you're wrong, Strong Bad!" shouted three triumphant voices in unison. In bursts of yellow, black, and pink, they rushed forth, their almighty deletion remotes and red pens raised for battle. "We can do it! We can do it...twelve times thirteen times fourteen times!" We're Deletehead Team 2184!"_

_"Whoa! **The** Deletehead Team 2184?" Strong Bad asked, feeble hope beginning to return to his expression._

_"That's right! We're gonna slay Trogdor, win the hearts of the kingdom, and rule with you forever!" crowed 13 Times A Day Man_

_"Oh no! Betrayed by my very own dragon? It cannot be!" Strong Bad groaned. "You must stop him!"_

_"Never fear, Strong Bad! We'll save you! We'll save you all!" cheered Twelve Times A Day Man. Fourteen Times A Day Girl gave them all a flirtatious wink, especially poor beleagured Strong Bad, and off they went. Happily, they triumphed---Twelve's almighty strength, Thirteen's biting wit and firepower, and Fourteen's womanly wiles quickly slayed the dragon and set free all the emails in the land. Strong Bad was so pleased with their work that he even gave them each permanent positions in the email-answering family---they took turns from week to week. Together, they ruled the land. And rumor had it that Fourteen and Strong Bad even had a steamy kiss after hours.  
_

_And so, the day was saved, thanks to Strong Bad's Team 2184!_

Okay. There are more than several things wrong with that story. First of all, II am way too awesome to let an empty inbox get me down. I know what you're thinking, but. That was an empty inbox, an empty mailbox, and the sun in the 13th house. Totally different scenario.

\---apparently I started reading stuff aloud again, because Strong Sad's insisting it's not different. Okay, threatening to pummel him to get him out of the way. Not working---okay. Ignoring. Second, no way am I letting these three wannabes and their lame advice encroach on my turf. I'm the one the peoples want! And thirdly: well, uh. I won't complain about getting a date. That's just about the only thing they got right. But Fourteen had better very definitely be a hot girl, or else. Maybe there's a picture on the fansite somewheres, hopefully a real one...

When I went looking for that, I came across another fiction. And that was when I was truly shocked and appalled by what I read. There was a fic by one Snowball McGee labeled Strong Bad and Homestar, slash, and of course I clicked it because who doesn’t like a slasher movie? I thought it would be about me knifing Homestar with one hand tied behind my back, and that’s never not awesome, right? Surely even a fanfiction writer could never ruin this concept. Slashing Homestar=solid gold.  
  
...except when it's not. As it turns out, slash fanfiction is not at all the same thing as a slasher movie. I got to read some horrifically lurid descriptions of...ugh, you know what? I can’t write it. I just can’t. I’ma copy over the offending section to burn as many eyeballs as possible.  
  
 _“Oh, Homestar,” Strong Bad crooned, stepping close to the athlete’s notably not-muscled back. “Can’t you see what a gift this is? Now that I’m no longer chained to answering email after email, I can finally tell you what I’ve always meant to say.”_  
  
 _“And what would that be?” Homestar asked quizzically, tipping his head to look at his much shorter friend._  
  
 _“I’ve always wanted to be your friend,” Strong Bad answered shyly, reaching a tentative glove up to rub at what passed for Homestar’s shoulder. “Every time I’ve called you names or thrown you out of the house, I’ve always wanted you to stay. But I could never tell you how much I cared.”_  
  
 _“Why not?” said Homestar, sighing with contentment at Strong Bad’s expert massaging skills._  
  
 _“Because I was afraid you’d reject me,” Strong Bad confessed, now working his gloves deeper into Homestar’s tissue. He was intent on making this feel good, to compensate for all that time wasted on bitter arguments._  
  
 _“I wouldn’t have,” Homestar promised, sighing to let Strong Bad know just how much his efforts were appreciated. “Haven’t I tried to be your friend all this time? I promise: we’re friends now, and nothing will change that.”_  
  
 _He then turned around, gathering Strong Bad into an invisible yet comfortable embrace..._  
  
See what I mean? I just narrowly avoided puking all over the keyboard again, and I really don’t need to waste any more computers around here. If I let myself go any more (not that I'm admitting that I did), I’ll turn into that monstrosity in the eyes of the fans! Strong Bad don’t need nobody! But he would definitely appreciate a visit from some eager young ladies.  
  
So I’m setting the record straight once and for all! Here’s the true story of what happened on Strong Bad’s Internet Inaccessibilty Stay...thing:  
  
 _Once upon a time, in the most awesome country of all of existence, Strong Bad was the king of the universe. He ruled his brothers, his the Cheat, his fellow citizenry, and even the failure of a dress-up impostor who liked to call himself the King of Town. And everyone was in awe of the awesomeness that was Strong Bad. Many tried to emulate his ways, but none ever succeeded, because he was actually perfect in every way._  
  
 _But Strong Bad was an exceptionally modest and humble grand ruler, so he spread his sage advice across the land in the form of generous advice given to all who emailed him. This golden age of Strong Badia continued for many years. Some even thought it would be forever._  
  
 _Until, unfortunately, the walking disaster formally known as Homestar Runner ruined everything. You see, Strong Bad’s ability to continue answering emails from his wonderful public depended on a glowing mystical artifact known as the Grand Servatron. It shined for many years, dazzling all who came across it, until Homestar Runner mistook it for a lightbulb and plugged it into his house._  
  
 _Suddenly, darkness fell across the land. Strong Bad no longer received emails from his followers. Crops failed, famine spread. More than a few people died. But Strong Bad wouldn’t let his people down! So he grabbed his sword, rounded up his dragon, and set forth on dragon-back for Homestar’s mushroom fortress._  
  
 _The first layer was easily penetrated: Homestar’s ‘shrooms were ugly little menaces, they swarmed our heroes, but Strong Bad easily fended them off with a few righteous notes from his battle axe-guitar. The next layer was a battle to slay a giant The Strong Mad, easily tricked with Strong Bad’s tome of mind-twisting trivia questions and converted to the hero’s side. The third was a giant death ray. The mad scientist Cheatenstein pushed the button...but because Homestar had provided the blueprints, nothing hapened. Cheatenstein, feeling cheated, soon joined Strong Bad’s righteous quest._  
  
 _Finally, they reached the final level. Homestar stood shaking in his boots, offering them the chance to rule together. Would Strong Bad stand for that? No way. So an epic duel began, Strong Bad on dragonback and Homestar on...toy-horse-back. That toy horse had some highly illegal modifications, like those metal jaws that almost took a bite out of Strong Bad’s keister._  
  
 _But eventually, they triumphed. Homestar cowered in shame of his many wicked deeds. Strong Bad glowered. And Trogdor...burninated. Finally, the light of the Grand Servatron was restored to the land! It took some time and many romantic interludes for Strong Bad to wake his ladies from their supposedly eternal sleep. And that Homestar still survived somehow, but that battle would come another day. Once again, Strong Bad had brought peace to the land, and he earned his rightful place as a hero. And a shining gold statue of himself, right in the center of the town square._  
  
So that’s the official account. Anything you might hear from anyone else is a bald-faced lie. Now kick back, wait for my next release of awesome e-mailings to enrich your life, and get out of my face.

-Strong Bad

* * *

  
Day 59 A.D.T.

 **current mood** : momentarily content

We’ve finally woken up from the strange dream of the past few months. The Cheat’s somehow living the high life again, Bubs’s shady supplies are flowing back in full force, and Strong Bad is once again the darling of the online world. The Deleteheads are all buzzing about what he’s gonna make next. A new comic? Will he finally answer our emails about Pom Pom’s sister? Personally, I’ve got my money on a music video. I’ve seen him looking at mugging a few cameras. Sure, he tore our fanfictions apart again, but nobody seemed to mind! Now they're starting on fanart: can we get our proportions right, I sure hope so.  
  
With the return of normalcy comes the return of my painfully normal suffering, right? Strong Bad’s started scoffing at me and shouting witty comebacks again. But the weird thing is? Instead of pummeling me when he gets close, most of the time he just...turns and storms off. Probably to terrorize the scarecrow again, but still.  
  
He might have even made a faintly positive facial expression when I made my famous triple-meat omelet with maple pancakes. He ate it with not one snarky word to be heard. And maybe I was still exhausted, but I thought I saw an actual smile. Not at me, I’m sure, but at finally having his life back. Then he got up, whistling some kind of new tune he’s throwing together in his head, and shut himself up in the computer room. Still without a computer, of course. Maybe there’s an old one I can rent for him from someplace? I can't count on ever getting that deposit back, but I have my ways. The Deleteheads are back in business, after all.  
  
Anyway, he’s back. Our lives are back in order. And I’m mostly sure I won’t regret this.  
  
-Strong Sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long weird journey to write this, but I enjoyed the opportunity very much. Thanks for the wonderful prompts! They kind of turned into a jumbled mess in my story-writing head, but hopefully there's something in here that's slightly better than a Deep Impact DVD.
> 
> And have a happy Decemberween! Uh. Yuletide, that is. :D


End file.
